Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 48 | The unraveling

THE SCHOOL HALLWAYS WERE quieter now, a strange emptiness filling the space where loud laughter and endless chatter used to echo. James could feel it—the palpable tension hanging like a fog over Elmwood Heights High, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the fear. And at the center of it all, William Carlisle was slowly unraveling.

It started small, subtle—William slipping away from his group of friends more often, lingering just on the edge of conversations like he wasn't really part of them. James noticed, of course. He noticed everything when it came to William. How his steps were slower now, dragging through the halls like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. How his smile, once so careless and confident, had faded into a tight, haunted line that barely flickered on his face anymore.

Today was no different.

James stood by his locker, pretending to sort through his books as he watched William from across the hall. His friends—what remained of them—were clustered nearby, speaking in hushed tones, their faces tight with the strain of recent losses. Ethan. Trent. And now Joel.

But William wasn't part of their conversation. He was standing off to the side, his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, staring at nothing in particular. His usual air of indifference had been replaced by something else—something that made James' pulse quicken with twisted satisfaction.

Guilt. Fear.

James had waited for this. He had imagined it in his mind, the moment when William would start to break under the pressure, his once perfect, impenetrable life cracking open like the shell of a fragile egg. And now, watching it unfold was better than he had ever dreamed.

There were dark circles under William's eyes now, deep purple bruises that marred the perfection of his features. His hair was tousled, unkempt, and his clothes—once immaculate—seemed thrown together haphazardly, like he no longer cared. There was something off about the way he moved, too, like every step took effort, as if the very ground beneath him had become treacherous.

And the way he looked at people, especially James—there was something different in his gaze. Something searching. As if William could sense that everything around him was slipping away, but he couldn't understand why.

James leaned back against the cold metal of his locker, his eyes narrowing as he observed. He had mastered the art of watching without being seen, fading into the background when he needed to. No one suspected him—he had made sure of that. The police, the teachers, his classmates—they all walked past him as if he were a ghost, invisible in the chaos of their grief and fear. But William? William was starting to notice.

The first time their eyes had locked, it was accidental. James had felt that familiar jolt of electricity, that pulse of attraction that always hit him whenever William was near. But this time, there had been something more in William's stare. A flicker of recognition, of uncertainty, like he couldn't quite place what was wrong but knew something was.

Now, every time James caught his eye, William's gaze lingered a little too long. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. The confusion in his eyes was clear—he was starting to suspect that James wasn't who he pretended to be.

But instead of retreating, James found himself growing bolder. Their encounters, once random, became more deliberate. James would time his steps to cross paths with William in the hallways, or stand just close enough during lunch that their eyes would meet across the crowded cafeteria. It was a game, a dangerous game, but one that James was beginning to enjoy far too much.

Today, as William stood there, staring at the ground like the weight of the world had crashed down on him, James decided it was time to push a little further.

He closed his locker with a soft click, the sound cutting through the quiet like a blade. William's head snapped up, his eyes immediately finding James' across the hall. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the distance between them feeling far too small, even though they hadn't exchanged a single word.

James didn't look away. He held William's gaze, his expression calm, neutral, as if he wasn't holding the very threads of William's sanity in his hands. And for a brief second, something passed between them—an unspoken tension that neither of them could quite name.

William's brow furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. There was fear in his eyes, real fear, and it thrilled James in a way he hadn't expected. He wasn't sure if William knew it yet, but the game was already in motion.

Across the hall, Markus stood with his remaining friends, shooting a glare in James' direction. The air felt heavy with the weight of unsaid accusations, but Markus hadn't made a move since their last encounter. Not after Joel.

James wasn't stupid—he knew Markus was looking for an excuse. He was waiting, watching, but James had stayed so perfectly under the radar, even Markus couldn't find a reason to act. Not yet.

Still, James' fixation was on William. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out, but didn't know how. And the guilt that practically radiated off of him, sinking into his skin like a second layer.

It was delicious.

James crossed the hall, his steps unhurried, but deliberate enough to draw attention. He walked past William, just close enough for their shoulders to almost brush, his eyes still locked on William's face.

"Carlisle," James said, his voice low, a quiet greeting that could have been mistaken for friendly—except for the edge beneath it, the weight of all the unspoken words.

William blinked, startled by the proximity. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but before he could say anything, Markus stormed over, his face twisted in anger.

"You think you can just walk around here like nothing's happened?" Markus snarled, shoving James roughly back. "You think that because Ethan, Trent, and Joel are dead, you can—"

"Markus!" William snapped, his voice cutting through the air, sharper than it had any right to be. His hand shot out, grabbing Markus by the arm, yanking him back before he could land another blow.

Markus glared at William, but the fire in his eyes dimmed just slightly. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? This freak's probably laughing at all of us. We're dropping like flies, and he just—"

"I said stop," William hissed, his voice shaking with something raw, something James hadn't heard in him before.

Markus gritted his teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching, but he didn't push further. Instead, he threw one last venomous look at James, muttering a string of slurs under his breath before stepping back.

James felt his lips twitch into a small, dangerous smile. 

As Markus turned away, James felt William's eyes on him again. That familiar, searching look that had become a constant over the past few weeks. This time, though, there was something else beneath it—something more desperate.

And James, as he walked away, could only smile to himself, feeling the threads of his plan tightening around William like a noose. William was unraveling. The guilt, the fear—it was eating away at him from the inside out, and James was there, watching, waiting, enjoying every second of it.

He'd crossed off three names from his list, and now all that remained Markus, Tyler, Sandra, and  the one he wanted most of all.

William Carlisle.

But James wasn't going to rush this. No, this one was special. He'd wait, bide his time, and when the moment was right, when William was at his most broken, that's when James would strike.

For now, he'd savor the unraveling. It was only just beginning.